(A/N): I've always hated the cheeziness of that part.

You know the part: Dorothy is locked in the Witch's castle tower, and she's got that hourglass behind her that's going to kill her before too long, and... you know the rest.

Let's see just how much sense that makes.

Her friends show up at the door. There's only like, thirty seconds worth of sand left. Maybe.

Even if she was supposed to just GET OUT OF THE ROOM to not die, she would have died, as she proceeds to go and hug all her friends and whatnot. She should be dead.

Unless if the Witch is stupid enough to allow... well, you know. 'The curse on the hourglass won't work if the door is open'.

And why doesn't the Witch just go and call Voldemort to get rid of her? I'd call that 'delicately', wouldn't you? Wizard of Oz would have made an epic crossover, believe me.

Anyway, read this.


It keeps flowing on, that dark ruby sand, through the hourglass. It's blurred from my tears, though – I can only make out the shrinking red at the top and the growing red at the bottom, accented by the dirty goldish-bronze of the rest of the hourglass.

I don't know what to do. I may have spoken to Auntie Em a few minutes ago, or it may have been a trick from the Witch, but either way, it offered me no closure to my situation. I was as good as dead; maybe I even was dead and didn't know it. It didn't matter now.

I clear my tears from my eyes and look back at the hourglass. From what I can tell, I only have half an hour before I'm dead.

Maybe it's even less than that.

So that means there are only a few thoughts left to think.

I'm too young to be thinking these thoughts.

While the hourglass flows, I contemplate what I hope for the afterlife.

As I cry my last tears, I look once again at the hourglass. The flowing crimson sand looks so much like blood.

And when the blood in the hourglass stops flowing, so does mine.

(A/N): Did you like?

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